


The way we are

by csiribee



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Blind Character, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M, Romance, Second Chances, space dads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-08 11:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14104257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/csiribee/pseuds/csiribee
Summary: There are more than 20 wineries only around their village. Baze and Chirrut know each-other but their families are rivals. The business is not the only thing that separates them. Intrigue, machination and secrets encompass the life on the vineyards. Will they find their way to each other in the shadow of a tragedy?Very AU story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really don’t know where this idea came from… but it stuck.
> 
> I'm mostly writing this because it seems if I want to read about them… i have to write something (or again it is just me who feels this way?).
> 
> As it is not ready yet, just in my head, be prepared… for bumpy updates.

He thought that the picnic would be fun but it was boring. The adults were talking about very important adult things and he had to behave and behaving was never his strength. There was only a few children. As the event was for the owners and not for the whole valley his best friend, Antoine, wasn’t there.

Tony and him were inseparable from the first day they met and he was the one who made Chirrut’s new home bearable. Tony had always the same idea what to do, they wanted to play the same games every time. They were frisking about between the vine-stocks, playing with the ball at the front yard or just counted the clouds in the middle of nowhere.

He had the same cheerful, restless nature as Chirrut. They could talk for hours, cutting in each other's words to tell the same thing, than laugh before they had even finished the sentence. They jumped up in the very same moment to chase a butterfly or scare away the pigeons. Although Tony was as spindly as Chirrut, he could eat twice as much, he was always hungry and ready to stuff more food in his mouth. He never said a bad word about anybody and was always respectful with others. Even too respectful for Chirrut’s liking. He teased him for it but Tony just laughed at him.

Chirrut missed Tony, but Tony wasn’t there. The only other child in his age was the Malbus boy. They weren’t allowed to play together, he didn’t know why exactly. All he understood was that the Malbus were not good people, there was some kind of old conflict between the two families.

So he strolled away, not too far, just to the nearby apple trees to climb up on one of them. From the top he could see the easter side of the valley with all the vineyards running up on the hills. The estate of his family was on the other side. He couldn’t see that, but the apples were sweeter on the top. He had just finished with a tasty one, when he saw Baze Malbus chasing his ball toward the tree.

Despite it was prohibited they played together once or twice in secret. Chirrut found that Baze Malbus was funny. Not as funny as Tony, but still. It was good to be with him. Not the same way as with Tony. It was different, but good. And he had a ball.  A ball overwrote every stupid rule the adult made. On top of that, rules were boring. Chirrut made a decision. He hooked his knee to one of the lower branches and dropped himself upside down from the leaves.

“Chirrut!” stopped the boy, looking around with a worried face. “What are you doing here?”

“Come up and see!” he said with a grin and pulled up himself. The other boy popped his head under the branches. He reached down his hand. “Come, Baze! Don’t forget to bring your ball!” Baze hesitated for a moment. He looked around once again then grabbed his hand and started to pull himself up.

They ate an apple in silence. The second one for Chirrut. “Do you want to see my ball?” Baze asked. Chirrut nodded and he passed him the ball. Chirrut take a good look, tested the leather. “It’s a good ball.” he announced.

“It’s a pity we cannot play with it.” added Baze.

Chirrut just shrugged and gave back the ball. “Wanna’ see my marbles?” he asked. Baze nodded so he get all the little balls from the pocket of his short and Baze inspected all of them one by one, holding them up to the sun. They were passing the shiny little things between them and they immersed in a deep conversation about their features with all the seriousness of two little boy.

“This one is the best!” Baze announced to a crystal blue one.

“That’s my favorite, too!” answered Chirrut in excitement. “You can keep it if you want to!”

“But this is your favourite…” Baze protested.

“I give it to you, you can play with it and can give it back next time.” Chirrut whispered.

Baze frowned then nodded. “Deal.”

“Baze Malbus, what have I told you!” they both looked down to see Mrs. Malbus under the tree. “Get down here, now!” she ordered.

The hat of Chirrut’s mother materialized next to her and Chirrut inhaled sharply. “Same for you, young man!” she said without looking at Mrs. Malbus.

Baze started to climb down first, sending a last wink to Chirrut before hopping on the ground. Chirrut followed him. “What have I told you about wandering away?” his mother scolded him.

“I know. I’m sorry!” Chirrut said squinting over Baze who received probably the same reprimand.

Her mother just sighed. “Come now, the Colins has just arrived. They brought Natalie, you can play with her.” she straightened up. “Let’s not tell this to your father.” Chirrut looked up at her to see that she didn’t address her words to him, but to the other woman who nodded quietly and pulled Bazet behind her back to the picnic.

  
  


***********************************************

 

The restaurant on the main square was rather the mix of a pub, a coffee and an eatery where villagers could meet and sometimes unsuspecting tourist sat down to the tables. The name was ‘Restaurant to the Duckhorn’, nobody knew why. There were no rivers or lakes, not even a swamp to hunt for ducks in the valley. Everybody called it Mathilda’s, after the owner's wife who became inseparable with the place. It was near to sunset when the youth and the workers of the vineyards came together here to have a drink to finish the day or start the evening.

Baze stopped his motorbike on the pavement to see that the half of the guests of Mathilda’s were looking in the same direction. The Imwe’s were quarrelling in the parking lot in front of the city hall. More specifically Darius Imwe was scolding his son, Chirrut, who stood there with bowed head and nodded sometimes. This was a common sight. After his wife’s death, about ten years ago, he became more arrogant, superior and insupportable than before. When he finished yelling at his son he sat in the car and drove away. Chirrut kicked the dust, jumped on his bike and gave speed probably to roam the nameless roads between the vineyards with high speed as he used to do after every disagreement with his father. Baze let out a sigh and greeted his friends.

“Just in time,” said the older Chandler boy, Greg. “to see the show! Mathilda is grumpier than ever!” Baze sat down laughing to their table and they shared their wine with him.

A touriste dared to criticise the food and he didn’t know what avalanche he started. Mathilda towered over him with her full height and full weight, which were both huge and she showered him with her opinion about complaining tourists, peppered with some swears while her enormous breasts were dancing in front of her. The villagers tried hard to swallow down the giggles because Mathilda flashed her eyes on them with a not very kindly uttered menace including her hands and the neck of the ones who laugh. Her balding husband, who was half the size of his wife, came to the terrace to calm her. His only achievement was that now Mathilda incorporated also his name in her wrangle.  

The show was still on, when a cheerful voice greeted them. “Hello, cellar rats!” Baze looked up in a surprise that Chirrut was already back, when he caught a glimpse of a blue eye. It was Antoine Tessier. This was his usual greeting. Half a joke, half an effort to pretend that they are equal. “I see Mathilda is giving her best tonight.”

“Hello, Tony!” David, the younger Chandler lifted the jug to show to Matilda they need one more and Rob Beringer rose his fingers to show they need two more. Despite the fact that it seemed he had drank enough for the evening, no one objected, on the contrary, they patted his shoulders.

Antoine lumped down on the chair David pulled closer with his feet to him. However Baze knew him since he was born, he couldn’t stop wondering how much he and Chirrut were alike. They were equally tall, slim and muscular, they wore their black hair short. Both of them had a bronze skin, while Antoine was only tanned, Chirrut’s skin was naturally golden.

They were best friends, always together, as if they were twins. Both was a mischief-maker, even their eternal smile was the same. There were only two differences between them. Chirrut had warm, brown eyes, Antoine had sparkling blue, and while Chirrut was the son of the most influential man in the valley and thus the heir of the biggest estate, Antoine was only the son of a foreman of a smaller vineyard, the Tamber Cellars.

Bad tongues would say that Tony and Chirrut were from the same father. But as the Imwes arrived to the valley when their son was already four and Tony three, there wasn’t any rumours.

“You missed all the show.” Bill Holeman said to him. Tony was currently working on their fields.

“Really? Tell me!” grinned back Antoine putting his legs up on the table.

“Mathilda has just ate that poor couple who were hoping to have a nice dinner.” grumbled Baze.

Antoine laughed at him. “I bet she did! She should put out a notice ‘Tourists are not allowed!’” and he kept laughing.

“You missed also the scene between the Imwes.” Greg said and David kicked him under the table. “What?!” David turned to his younger brother with a puzzled face.

“Dang! Chirrut was here?” straightened up Antoine.

“Yeah. But after he got another ragging from his father he stroke off.” said David on a worried voice.

“He deserved that, I’m sure.” shoved the jugs full of wine on the table Mathilda. “That little brat doesn’t learn from anything!” all of them looked at her with dim eyes so she retreated still mumbling curses.

“Do you know why they’re fighting about this time?” David asked when Mathilda was out of earshot.

“Mr. Imwe wants to put Chirrut back with the pickers at this harvest.” they all started to protest in union. Every one of them had their role in the family vineyard and they organised and led the harvest when it was time since the age of fifteen. “Mr. Imwe said that the bunches that the workers under his command picked last year were useless, all broken. Therefore, he must learn to respect the grape.”

“That’s ridiculous!” tapped David on the table. It was more than ridiculous but Baze didn’t say anything just clenched his fists under the table. They were interrupted as Chirrut’s bike stopped in front of Mathilda’s, steering up the dust and they all started to whoop when they saw the girl sitting behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baze's calm, contemplating brown eyes versus Chirrut's bratty, always laughing one.

Chirrut stopped his motorbike in front of the bar and supported it with his leg while the girl behind him climbed down. She took off the helmet in the middle of the appreciative whistle of the audience of Mathilda’s. She shook her head. Her blond hair danced around as the golden rays of sun. The girl with Chirrut, the target of the admiration of each and everyone of them, was Nathalie Colins. Long thighs, perfect body, beautiful skin and above all she was the kindest, loveliest being on Earth. The prince and princess of the valley, the troublemaker and the beauty, the children of the owners of the biggest vineyards. They were bounded already in their cradles and it seemed their parents made a good investment.

Chirrut stepped to Tony and they hugged laughing as if they hadn’t seen each other for a thousand years. As they stood side by side, the similarity was even more striking. They shook hands or shared some words with the others, but Baze could tell the smiles were sincere only on the Chandler boys’ faces.

Baze Malbus couldn’t remember the moment when he realised for the first time that the world around him was just a theater where everybody played a role. Probably the recognition 

sprouted out in his mind in his childhood as the vine root springs and slowly begins to crop. He realised that  the brave one played the role they chose to play, manipulating others to their own favor and neglecting or even pushing away those who didn’t serve them anything or anymore. Others played a role that was given to them, being friendly with those whom they were hoping some benefit and take a revenge on the weaker ones for the situation they didn’t want to fight against.

When he realised that, he wanted to shake them to wake them up. But he ran into walls, lack of understanding or simple rejection. He got confused. Maybe the others did the right thing and he was wrong. Maybe he was the one who couldn’t see through the tissue of social life. The more he thought about it, the less he understood. Not living freely, hiding purposes and secrets seemed to him like to be alone in the dark. It seemed it bothered noone. It seemed to Baze that they all felt good playing this game.

He built up his existence in this life bit by bit. He ate everything his mother put in front of him. He learned well in school and became the member of the wrestling team. He helped in the vineyard and made his research, asked for advice from the more experienced workers to master every task his father gave him. He hang around with the other boys and girls from the valley. They got into trouble together, they fought their way out together. Even with their fists if it was needed.

After a while he realised he became part of this life. He was somehow an indispensable component of it. If he hadn’t been part of it then this life would’ve been a different life.  At the end he became proud that he is an indispensable component, even though he didn’t know he was among the bravest who could play according their own rules, or he was just a supporting actor. He loved, from the deep of his heart, he loved lots of people of this theater, even if they played a role, or for the role they played, even if there were secrets or because of the things they wanted to hide.

One day, when he looked into the mirror and he could see no more that chubby face of that little boy he once was. A young man looked back at him, with a strong cheekbone and broad shoulders. This man had unknown flames in his eyes. Flames, that can give warmth or burn down the entire world, depending on the circumstances. Also his stubble became stronger and he had to shave every day. He decided to let grow his hair a little longer, to hide his ears.

His new face was nothing special. Just a facade to show to the world. Anyway, that sturdy little boy he once was, disappeared. The Baze Malbus, standing there, was somebody new, even for him. Nobody knew that, except from him and he didn’t want to reveal this fact to anybody.

He kept going to school than to university. He kept fulfilling his duties in the family business and earning knew ones. He got up every day, took a shower, ate his breakfast, brushed his teeth, made his bed, put on his clothes. He met his mates, drank the drinks they drank, did the things they did. He kept himself busy.

When he had no more school duties and finished his tasks in the cellars or on the fields he made his research on the enology. The frame of the game. The main theme of their lives, which somehow was the only true thing. Make the grape grow, fertilize, prune, mulch, control pest, harvest, produce wine, than start all over again. Depending on the elements of nature. Rain, sunshine, dry season, pest. There was no lie there, no secrets.

Sometimes, on silent nights, before falling asleep, doubt rose in his heart. Doubt that maybe he could live a more honest life, that there are places where he can be truly himself. But at the end he had to admit to himself that he had secrets too. He had parts in him he didn’t want to show, he wanted to protect. So he prepared himself to continue this graspless life.

And there he was. One of his secrets, a mystery itself. Chirrut. When he got to Baze in the raw of greetings, he just nodded. Baze didn’t move a muscle just mimicked the gesture. A mutually acceptable compromise in the middle of the crossfire of the war between their families. A nod, as the sign of peaceful coexistence and the expression of some kind of mutual respect. After the Colins and the Imwe, the Malbus estate was the third biggest vineyard in the valley.

“Wine?” offered Tony his glass.

“Nah, I won’t drink Matilda’s wine! Nat do you wanna’ drink?” Chirrut offered to Nathalie, who took the glass from Tony’s hand, blushing. Tony jumped up, offering his seat and she took it. Chirrut carefully stayed outside the pell-mell of the tables while Tony broke his leg to find some water and a clean glass for Nathalie, who protested with the sweetest confusion a young woman can have among young men.

“So what do you drink?” stood up Dave.

“Would you ask a beer from Mathilda for me?”

“You want to insult her?” asked David laughing and jogged toward the door.

“When do you start the semester this year, Chirrut?” turned to him Jack Tamber.

“The classes will start in two weeks, but I leave this week-end.” popped Chirrut some nuts in his mouth.

“So soon? We all leave only the next week.”

“Yeah, can’t wait to get back in town, bro! I still have to return by the time the harvest starts.” Nathalie put his palm on his waist smiling up at him and Chirrut’s face softened into a half smile looking down to her.

Two jeeps turned down from the main road full with shouting, screaming boys and girls. They stopped in the middle of the square, jumped down and stomped into the restaurant occupying some tables on the side. They immediately start to tap the tables demanding for drinks. Mathilda hurried out with some jugs and glasses in her hands to serve them fretting on their manners.

They came from the next village and that never ment good. Everybody around the tables looked at them disapproving, firming their lips. Chirrut stepped closer and crossed his arm in front his chest, in a provoking pose. The possibility of upcoming trouble made his eyes sparkle and a mischievous grin appeared on his face.

Baze wasn’t surprised. It seemed as if Chirrut was always looking for trouble to jump right in the middle when they met. He always did what wasn’t allowed to do, did the opposite what he was told or was wise to do. He was restless and unpredictable, always with a smile bigger than his face could bear.

“This wine is terrible!” bespattered one of the newcomers spitting on the ground.

“If you don’t like our wine, you can just leave!” Chirrut shouted back at them. The tone earned angry huffs and threatening looks. Baze stood up and moved closer as did all the boys from the walley who was at the bar. The Chandler boys and Tony was right next to him, Chirrut a bit ahead. Such a conflict happened often and no of them was afraid of it. Their muscles were tight from work and occasional fights.

“I’m not surprised of the quality!” said the same guy. “Your wine sucks as the whole walley!” laughter rose around him. Chirrut didn’t wait him to pour the drink on the ground, he jumped forward to grab the closest one. The fight almost started when a demon rushed in the middle pushing them away and separating them.

“No fight in my bar!” Mathilda yelled on them. “No fight in my bar! You,” she pointed on the intruders. “...sit down and drink what you ordered or pack and go!” The boys from the other village held their hands up chuckling and giggling, not even trying to hide their amusement. They knew Mathilda already too well. “You,” Mathilda turned to Baze and his friends. “...go back to your table!”

“But Mathilda…” started one of the workers but the women’s eyes made him shut his mouth.

“I don’t want to hear a sound Charlie or I will speak to your father!”

“What do you want from the old man? He’s eighty-six years old!” Charlie nattered. Now, it was their turn to snicker.

“And you Chirrut Imwe!” she turned to Chirrut who immediately held his hands up and made an innocent face with a dashing smile. “I told you thousand times I don’t want to see you around!”

“Ok, alright, we’re leaving!” he reached his hand out and Nathalie ran to him laughing.

“And who will pay for your beer, you, little brat?” shouted Matilda after them.

Chirrut turned back. “I drop Nat home, than I’ll come back to pay.” he added with a grin. “Please put aside a slice of apple pie for me!”

“I don’t put anything aside for you! You are banned from the Duckhorn forever! Remember?” she shouted pushing her fists in the air.

Chirrut sat up on his bike, send a smile toward Mathilda before he closed the shield of his helmet and gave gas.

Mathilda turned around still cursing than she yelled after her husband. “Ramsay, is there any apple pie left to put aside?”

They sauntered back to their table but Tony didn’t sit back. “I have to leave!” he drank the last gulp from his glass.

“Hey, we give you a ride.” said Dave. “You stay, Baze?”

“No, I’m leaving, too. Tomorrow we start to collect samples from the north slope. I have to rise early.”

“Ok. See you then!” the boys said goodbye and Baze watched them as they strolled to the Chandler boys’ jeep and drove away in the same direction as earlier Chirrut. Baze walked slowly to his bike while the others throw some dirty jokes after him, making him laugh and retort some more banter on his way. A usual night in the walley. Another night of pretending that everything was alright, everything was fine. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very productive.  
> And the story is getting better...

The bar seemed to be crowded. Even the street in front of it was full with people holding a bottle or a glass in their hands. Too crowded for Baze’s liking but that was the nearest bar to the University after his late classes. It was only the second week of the semester. He hadn’t yet pick up the rhythm of the city nor university. He took a breath of the fresh night air. Still warm but quickly turning cooler. He huddled in his thin jacket over his polo-shirt glancing left and right on the road, waiting for the next car to pass and dodged across, slipping through the people into the small bar. 

It was a well lit space. Nude walls painted with lights and brown tile floor. He elbowed his way out to the counter. The bottles glistened on the shelves behind. Inside it was more packed than outside and Baze already felt sweat rolling down his spine. He saw some of his yearmates and some other familiar faces passing through the door and around. He ducked his head, avoiding eye contact. He just wanted to relax and didn't need any small talks. Even if it was a gay bar you could never really know why the other boy or man was really there. Perhaps he came just for the fun. He wanted to avoid such mistakes. 

It got warmer and warmer with less and less air to breathe, just the humid expiration of the others mixed with his own. Tiny drops of sweat started to cover his skin at the bottom of his hairline. He desperately tried to catch the bartender’s attention when his eyes found a familiar silhouette across the bar. 

The young man howling with laughter at the other end was hard to miss. He swiveled just slightly toward him, but Baze was certain he would recognize this slim figure and black hair anywhere. If he had brown eyes, then he was Chirrut. Chirrut Imwe. The group of young men around seemed to be surrounding him specifically. Chirrut shamelessly fluttered his eyelashes over his brown eyes. Baze frowned as he watched Chirrut grinning around his face looking lax with alcohol. 

Baze could recall sharply the moment when he saw Chirrut about a half year ago on the danceparket of a club. The lights flashed over his white tank top, to turn it orange and highlight the obvious muscles under it. Baze was in the middle of  his second year and Chirrut was only a freshman, but it was obvious that he was already the king of the night. Baze couldn’t be more surprised that he saw Chirrut kissing with another  _ man _ , in the middle of a gay club and Chirrut wasn’t less surprised to see him there, when they met again later at the bar. He just stared at him for a long moment with probably the same dull expression Baze had earlier. He stepped to him, grabbed his hand and over the loud music he shouted in his ear: “Please, don’t tell anyone. I won’t tell to anybody!” Baze swallowed hard and just nodded a few times. Chirrut let his hand go, backed away to slowly disappear among the dancing bodies. Baze ordered another whisky. 

On that night the colours of the world somehow changed. What was lively, faded and what was colorless suddenly became rich in colours. As if a special filter was put in front of his eyes. Chirrut played a very different game as Baze thought and Baze was confused. He was like him, like Baze and he was hiding. Hiding like Baze. He pretended to be with the Colins girl and the girl played the game. Another secrets to keep. 

After that evening in the club, their paths crossed several times in the night and sometimes during the day, too. It was inevitable. At the beginning they just nodded as they did at home, Chirrut with a wide grin. Later they shared some small talk and once they even had a sandwich together in the park, at one of the favorite spots of the students. But usually that was all. His heart ached and he did not know it ached for Chirrut or for himself.

Even months later, sometimes Baze still felt the warmth of his skin in his palm and the tickle of his breath on his ear. Like at that moment. He huffed. Apparently Chirrut said something funny as a round of cheers echoed, with glasses held high. Chirrut spun quickly on his stool, hands slapping the bar top and as he flung forward he caught Baze’s eyes, staring at him. 

Baze held the eye contact for some moments than he took his shot of whiskey and grabbed his bottle of beer to shoulder his way out to the street. Outside he stopped in the middle of the chatting, laughing people and took another, deep breath. The cool air sent a shiver down on his damp spine. He let the air out quickly and took a sip from the bottle. He usually didn’t like it but that night it felt good standing in the mass of bodies. 

Apart from his height, broad shoulders and his longer hair he was one among many. He wore the same clothes, he drank the same beer. By then he gained some experience in sex and he was in many more nightclubs. He even had a longer relationship with a boy from the same faculty. It lasted for a few months. They didn’t meet in a bar, but in the swimming-pool of the University. It ended not long after he met with Chirrut that night, he couldn’t even remember why. He didn’t really mind it. The city was already suffocating enough even without relationships.

He took a longer sip. If asked, he definitely would say that he was satisfied with the life he had. He was busy with his studies, preparing for the life that was waiting for him. He knew that things changed quickly, he was curious to everything and was sure in only one thing: for the remaining part of his life there would be no big surprises. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

The door of the bar opened and Chirrut waltzed out with uncertain steps. His short-sleeved, white shirt was unbuttoned almost to his navel. The only thing was holding it together was the fact that it was tucked in his jeans. His golden skin was shining under the lanterns and Baze regretted that he didn’t slipped away already. 

Chirrut didn’t even look around, he stepped right to him. “Too hot in there.” he smiled.

“Yeah.” Baze nodded. “This place is really crowded.”

“Usually people just pop in to grab a drink, than they head into the back alleys.” Chirrut gestured with his head. 

Baze followed the move with his gaze somewhere behind the bar. He huffed. “Yeah, I saw. It’s pretty wild out there.” Chirrut grinned a little tipsy but still bright. Too bright. Baze shook his head in disbelief. “I bet you already tried.” 

Chirrut silently laughed and reached for the beer in Baze’s hand. His muscles danced under his skin as he lifted the bottle to his mouth to drink. “I supposed to meet some friends, but I can’t find them.” he said after a long sip.

“I think you found a way to pass the time pleasantly.” Chirrut gave back the bottle but was still waiting for Baze’s excuse to be at the bar. “I just needed a cold beer before going home.”

“You want a second one?” 

Baze considered for a moment. “Why not?” he asked than.

They pressed themselves back to the bar and started to find their way to the counter. It was warmer and more airless than he remembered. A girl came up against them and stopped, stuck between a boy’s back and Chirrut’s chest. After she took a better look, she firmed her hands on Chirrut’s shirt. “Hey, there! Do you want to buy me a drink?”

Chirrut smiled at her. “I’m afraid I’m already taken.” He looked at Baze with the sweetest eyes Baze could ever imagine.

“Oh, what a pity.” the girl said as she continued her way out. Baze was pushed forward and pressed against Chirrut’s side and his smile grew bigger as he took Baze’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for everybody who believed (even if for only a second) that Chirrut and Nathalie are together.  
> How could you? Really...

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me how you like it! I really would like to know your opinion and your guesses where the story goes.
> 
> Comments and kudos are love!


End file.
